


fickle bicker

by leedeeloo



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, In Media Res, Post-Canon, argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19180048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leedeeloo/pseuds/leedeeloo
Summary: Haruhi and Tamaki have a little tiff about their habits-- namely, both their habits of being relentless flirts.





	fickle bicker

**Author's Note:**

> i had intentions of making this longer, but im pretty content with this one scene so! if i end up writing more ill just make a little series or something instead of updating this one.

“We need to talk,” Tamaki said. There was a tense quality to his voice-- almost a tremble, the racket of tears in it.

“Okay,” Haruhi replied, either not hearing that or choosing to ignore it. She shut the fridge door, wiping her hands off on her pants as she walked over to the living room, and sat on the couch. She stared at Tamaki, still in the doorway, deadbolt still not locked, waiting for him to come over. 

He did. He sat on the opposite end of the couch from her, staring at his hands in his lap while she stared at him. His throat felt dry, he couldn’t find the words in the jumble of his head-- but Haruhi would wait for that, just like she always did. 

“I feel weird when you flirt with people in front of me.” Simple, concise, ‘I feel’ statement. Maybe a little muddled, ‘weird’ wasn’t a feeling, but it was a good start.

Her eyebrows came together. Her head tilted. A small frown appeared. “I don’t understand what you mean,” she said, just as simple and concise.

“With the neighbour,” Tamaki said quickly, trying not to raise his voice. “A-and the cashier, and the waitress, and, and just people on the street! You’re saying things, and laughing, and it’s like when we were hosts and--”

“Tamaki,” she said sharply. “You’re getting wound up,” she reminded him.

He nodded, exhaled. He started over. “I feel like you flirt with women in front of me, and it makes me worry that I’m not right for you. That you want out, and away.”

Haruhi sighed too. “I didn’t know I was doing that,” she admitted. “I don’t want out, or away from you. I like being with you Tamaki.” She looked across at him; big, honest eyes catching his, a plain bluntness to her words. “I like dating you, and I like living with you.”

He smiled, tears starting to spring forward. He couldn’t tell why, what he was feeling to make them happen. 

There was a creak of the couch cushion shifting. Haruhi leaning over, wanting to touch her boyfriend, and then stopping. She pulled her hands onto her lap, the same pose as Tamaki. 

“Tell me,” she said. “When I do that, let me know. I didn’t realize I was flirting with people, and I don’t want to if it makes you feel like that.” She turned her head, smiled. “I’ll let you know, too.”

Tamaki furrowed his brow in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘too’?”

“You flirt with people.”

“When?!” Tamaki leaned over the cushion, ready to meet Haruhi halfway.

She leaned back, and waited for him to do the same before she spoke. “Everyone you just mentioned, you were flirting too.” A pause, a breath. “It bothers me too,” she said eventually.

It wasn’t fair how calm she could be saying that. Tamaki knew starting this conversation would take over the rest of his day-- even after they talked it out and resolved things, he’d still be in a tizzy over it, emotions still caught up on it and wanting to spiral. Haruhi, however, could take on this conversation, air her grievances, and when it was all said and done, get on with her day and get back to her routine like nothing happened. 

She shook her head, looking away, the opposite direction entirely. “Nevermind,” she said softly. 

“Haruhi?” Tamaki asked, barely above a whisper.

She didn’t answer. Her hair bounced; she was shaking her head. “It’s-- it doesn’t matter, we’re talking about how you feel.” 

“Well, now we’re talking about you.” He scooted across the couch, to the middle cushion, his arm across the back. “Haruhi, look at me.”

Her shoulders raised. He knew the face she was making; lips pressed together, chin crinkling, forehead creasing as her eyebrows came together. The way her shoulders jerked solidified it; she was trying not to cry.

“‘Ruhi,” he mumbled.

“Nnh.” Haruhi’s shoulders just about reached her ears before she brought a hand to her face. “Gimme a minute.”

A shuddery, shaking breath. A sniffle. Her hands at her face, and then wiping off on her lap. Finally she turned-- not looking at Tamaki, but forwards. He could see her face at least. Eyes still watering, cheeks pink, that melancholy flush. 

“I feel stupid,” she said.

“You’re not.”

“I feel like it,” Haruhi insisted. Finally her shoulders relaxed and she took a deep breath in. “I know you just-- it’s how you talk to people, how you interact with the world. I know that, I know you’re not trying to do anything, I know you don’t mean anything by it. I  _ know _ that, but--”

“--But you’re still upset,” Tamaki finished for her.

“Yes!” Haruhi said quickly, sharply, looking at him. Her face flushed, embarrassment over her sudden impassioned answer quickly catching up. She looked down, picked at her nails. “I really am the natural type, huh,” she muttered.

“What?” Tamaki sputtered, following it with a bark of a laugh. The chuckles came out of him like coughs, and he covered his mouth demurely. 

Haruhi stared, face steadily warming. “You know,” she said quietly, “since I flirt with people too.”

Laughing all the while, Tamaki closed the distance between the two of them, wrapping his arms around Haruhi. She grabbed onto the front of his shirt, and he finally stopped laughing, cheek against the top of her hair. 

“Ruhi, Ruhi, Ruhi,” Tamaki chanted. “You’re just amazing.”

“Shut up,” Haruhi muttered.

“Never,” he replied. 

He held her to his chest for a while. Running his fingers through her hair, breathing her in, rubbing a hand up and down her back as she slowly crawled onto his lap, her steady breaths against his collarbone. 

When they’d both calmed down, he asked, “what are we going to do about this?”

“Mm?” Haruhi mumbled, starting to fall asleep.

“We haven’t solved anything yet, you know. We’re both terrible flirts and upset about it.” Haruhi was warm in his lap, stretching without getting up like a spoiled cat. 

“Maybe we don’t have to do anything,” she muttered,. 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“We’re not trying to hurt each other,” she answered. Despite her best efforts, Haruhi was waking back up now, and she straightened up to match it, looking Tamaki in the face. “Why not just keep it up?”

There it was. That flicker, that hint, that implied it’s-more-fun-like-this reasoning that Haruhi kept stowed away most times. Serious and to the point-- until she wanted otherwise. Tamaki smirked, smiled, grinned. He wrapped his arms around Haruhi-- around his  _ girlfriend _ \-- and squeezed her, rocking them back and forth. “Haruhi!” he yelled, “Ruhi, you’re just perfect! Amazing! Smartest person alive, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Tamaki!” she spat back, trying to cover up her laugh with annoyance. Despite herself, she giggled as she spoke. “Tamaki, what do you mean?”

He pulled away, held her face in his hands. “Let’s make a game of it, hm? We’ll tell each other, keep score for each other.”

“What wins then?” she asked, going along with it. “Highest score or lowest?”

“Ah, good question.” Tamaki tilted his head back, looked up as he thought about it. His lips pursed, pouting as he thought. “Maybe we should score for quality on top of quantity.”

“So we start doing it on purpose?” Haruhi put a hand over his, watched him think. 

Tamaki frowned. “No, no, two different kinds of scores is too difficult.” He finally looked back down but kept going, staring at the space between them, taking a hand off Haruhi’s face, putting a knuckle between his lips, threatening to bite. “Maybe just highest is best?”

“We can do a test run tomorrow,” she offered.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. He perked up, as if he thought of something. Raised his finger, let out a soft gasp. Then he kissed Haruhi’s forehead. “We have all evening to workshop this,” he said, “what do you want for dinner?”

“Hey,” Haruhi muttered, a light protest, “that’s my line.”

**Author's Note:**

> now we're done and its my time to ramble  
> so like my plans for possibly continuing this was to get into more discussions/exploration of polyamory? i just started writing this without much of a plan though, so i kind of lost steam.   
> also i am open to concrit on this one! i just recently got back into ouran, so im not 100% solid/satisfied with my characterization here. if you think theres a better way i could have written something, please let me know, i'd love to hear it!


End file.
